


WaterColors

by TT_Angst_Queen



Series: Talk, Don't Speak [3]
Category: Bull (TV 2016), NCIS
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gibbs is smarter then anyone thinks, If You Squint - Freeform, If that wasn't clear before, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Paraguay, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smart Jethro Gibbs, Tony Is Jason Bull
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 20:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14028129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TT_Angst_Queen/pseuds/TT_Angst_Queen
Summary: Jason Cooks Gibbs breakfast, and they begin their day discovering new things about Gibbs.





	WaterColors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cutsycat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutsycat/gifts), [ThePeachyMonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePeachyMonkey/gifts), [TheSleepyProducer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSleepyProducer/gifts).



 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Gibbs moaned as he ate the eggs that T-Jason had made. He had fried up eggs with red peppers and green onions from the garden and added fresh rosemary from the herb garden as well. Gibbs had never thought of adding spices to his eggs, especially rosemary, but it tasted amazing.

 

“I'm guessing you like my eggs?” 

 

Gibbs tried to glare at the smugly amused look that Jason had on his face, but the younger man was unfazed. 

 

“Mhmm. ‘lly ‘ood.” Gibbs conceded through chewing his last mouthful. 

 

“I’m glad,” Jason smiled. “So yesterday we got settled in, what’s the plan for today, Jethro?” 

 

Thinking about it, Gibbs had to stamp the urge to snap “nothing.”, knowing that he had to open up, or he would lose his job. To be honest with himself, looking past his pride and stubbornness, he was almost certain if he couldn’t talk now, to T-Jason, if he was taken off his job, he wouldn’t get it back. If he couldn’t talk to Jason, then he was sure that he wouldn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t trust anyone else nearly as much as he trusted Jason. 

 

Standing up, Gibbs avoided the eyes of his former agent, grabbed their plates and took them to the sink and began washing them.

 

“You know, Jethro, I think I saw some nice paints and an easel over in the sunroom,” 

 

“Yeah,” Gibbs grumbled, “And?” 

 

“I was thinking. I haven’t painted in a few years, maybe I can get my skills up to snuff, and maybe you can help me?” 

 

Stiffly, Gibbs finished drying the plates and turned towards Jason. 

 

“What makes you think I know how to paint, Bull?” Gibbs growled, and Jason chuckled. 

 

“Because I’ve known you for seventeen years, Gibbs. Do you really think I didn’t recognize your writing on the back of every hand-painted card that arrived in my mail all those Christmas’, Birthdays, and Thanksgiving?”

 

Flushing suddenly, Gibbs turned away and began to walk towards the stairs, knowing that Jason would follow. Some part of him hoped he wouldn’t. Painting watercolors was a very intimate secret of his, only shared with one other person, his Shannon. He was almost....scared to show his very much hidden talent. 

Years of being in the Marine’s and being the stereotypical man’s man made him nervous of ridicule for his talent that, to most of society, was seen as a woman’s art. 

 

Walking up the cream carpet steps, his toes sinking into the soft material, he was hyper-aware of Jason’s presence behind him as he ascended the steps to the second of three floors. This floor had large windows facing the lake, garden, and mountains in the distance; Jethro found that the view always had something new that he discovered every time, and he loved to paint variations of it. Every time he looked at the view, he would immediately relax; even if it was pouring rain and stormy, the view left him peaceful and calm, his mind relaxing from it’s constant up and down and circle running that it did whenever he was on the job and working. 

 

Being at the cabin gave him a sense of peace that nothing else had come close to. Here, he didn’t have to worry about other people’s pains, opinions, problems or lives. Here, Jethro only had to worry about himself, and even then, he didn’t worry about much else than if he would have enough firewood for the time he would be there, or if he would catch a fish big enough for him to eat and not release. This cabin was his special place- His safe haven, a place where he could relax and let go of all the masks and walls and not worry about how others would perceive him.

 

“Wow, Jethro, this view is amazing!” 

 

Gibbs was torn out of his thoughts at Jason’s words, not having realized that they had reached the second floor. 

 

He didn’t know that Jason had been waiting for ten minutes while Gibbs was lost in thought standing in the middle of the comfortably furnished open plan floor. Jason had waited patiently while Jethro had checked out for awhile, before realizing that if he didn’t say something, that soft smile on his old Boss’ and oldest friend’s face would probably be replaced with a frown as his thoughts went to darker places. 

 

“Yeah,” Gibbs said, voice soft. He didn’t meet Jason’s eyes, choosing instead to look at the view, his muscles and mind instantly relaxing, like it was some sort of sedative. “It’s my favorite place here. It…” Gibbs swallowed. “It always relaxes me,” He said, “Reminds me that even when it’s really dark in my life, I can find light if I just flip the switch- There’s beauty in the world, I just have to look a little harder to find it.”  

 

Jason looked at him with smiling eyes, and the phycologist realized that even after knowing the man for seventeen years, Jethro still had depths to him, layers upon layers that he didn’t know about. 

 

He would enjoy discovering every single one of them. 

 

“You’ve seen Harry Potter, Jethro, but you’ve never seen Casablanca?” 

 

“Yeah,” Jethro chuckled, “I like to read, got about ten wall shelves lining the other end of this room, Bull.”

 

Jason looked and was surprised to see hundreds and a few more of books of all kinds covering the walls of the other half of the room. He had been so focused of the Studio part of the room and the view, that he didn’t notice that the other half was essentially a library with comfy couches and side tables made of Redwood and a red brick fireplace that had a large flat-screen TV above it. He could see that it wasn’t connected to cable, only a DVD/VHS player (and when did he get old enough that seeing one of those surprised him now?) and on either side of the fire-place was two bookcases full of Documentaries and old Westerns of all kinds, from Clint Eastwood to National Geographic, from Bad Day at Black Rock to Shark Week. There must have been hundreds of DVDs and VHS on the shelves. 

The variety showed that Jethro, Though he was seen as a man with more street smarts than book smarts, much like Tony himself had been before he had become Jason, Jethro was much smarter than he looked. Some of the documentaries were on quantum physics.

 

“Why do you hide your intelligence from everyone, Jethro?” 

 

“What, you mean like you did all those years?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Gibbs smiled and chuckled. 

 

“The same reason you did, Jason,” Gibbs nodded toward the shelves. 

 

“If I acted like the backwater small-town jarhead marine that was technology inept and better at butting heads than breaking open a good book or understanding physics,” Gibbs sighed. “Then they would underestimate me. If I showed that I had talent, that I was more politically and tech smart than I let on, They would want me to work at becoming Director.

 

“I didn’t want that, Jason. Working cases and helping families get closure and save people is what I do. I need to help people because if I don’t-”

 

“Then you would realize that you need to help yourself, too. You weren’t ready for that.”

 

“No. No, I wasn’t” Gibbs admitted.

 

“But now you are.” 

 

“Yeah, I think I am.”

 

Jason smiled.

 

“Then let's get started,” He said, and held up two tubes of paint. 

 

“Should I paint the Lake or the Garden? Because the lake reminds me of Harry Potter, but the garden reminds me of Casablanca.”

 

Gibbs laughed.

 

Maybe he could do this, after all. 

 

* * *

 


End file.
